Visiting Hours
by eloquence7
Summary: Hermione's series of visits to Draco Malfoy in azkaban
1. chapter 1

**VISITING HOURS**

 **Hello guys! I've been in love with Dramione for many, many years, and I've come across many beautiful and life-changing fanfictions. This is my first one, so I know it will never be like the ones I'm in love with, but I figured I would give it a try! For anyone who reads chapter one of this love story, I am very thankful.**

 **Half of the story takes place post-war during Hermione's visits to Draco in Azkaban. The other half consists of their time at hogwarts together. The time period will be changed every other chapter.**

 _ **Chapter 1**_

It was May 27, 1998, and the wizarding world was recovering from war. Hogwarts remained rubble, but witches and wizards arrived at the great hall every morning to help rebuild. That's what it was about...starting over. Honoring those who were lost by living happily and in peace. But how could I When Teddy Tonks had to be raised the same way as Harry? When Lavender Brown never found her knight in shining armor. When George Weasley had to run his shop without his brother.

I supposed that's why I was in azkaban during visiting hours, waiting to see the only thing that allowed me to live happily.

The guard that was my escort grabbed me roughly by the arm and yanked me into the azkaban lift. For a moment my mind flashed back to the face of Bellatrix Lestrange yanking me to the ground. I shivered violently at the vision and threw the man a glare.

He spoke a short incantation, pointing his wand at the door, and the lift shot downwards.

Gasping, I clutched the railing with my arm marked "mudblood". _Bellatrix is dead...Molly killed her. She doesn't bother you anymore._ Even as I thought this to myself I knew I was lying. The insane witch haunted my dreams night after night, hitting me with the cruciatus and slicing me with a knife.

More often than not my friends were lying dead beside me. Sometimes Harry was sprawled on the floor next to me with dead, open eyes and covered in blood. Often it was Ron or Ginny begging for me to save them from the terrible fate that awaited them... The memory of these visions made my heart start beating faster and filled me to the toes with dread.

Everyone had scars from the war; physical, mental, emotional...I had nightmares of the friends I had lost, of my mum and dad, of the torture I received in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor. I knew anybody who fought experienced them as well.

Ginny could be heard pacing her room late at night in the burrow. Ron sometimes disappeared at odd times and didn't materialize until hours later. Harry stayed up later than anyone else, counting in his head the friends he lost, still believing it was his fault.

We were so lucky to have each other in those times. When we were broken and our hearts were still freshly shattered with the grief of war. Of course, nobody ever truly recovers from a tragedy like the battle against Lord Voldemort. I knew we would always have nightmares. Always feel guilty for being alive and together when our friends were long gone...

A jolt in the lift snapped me out of my thoughts and I breathed in sharply. For a moment I began to panic. Suddenly the walls were closing in and my escorter was replaced by the face of a masked Death Eater. I quickly grabbed for my wand and slid it out of my robes pocket. The Death Eater turned to me in astonishment as I stuck my wand to his throat and began to whisper an unforgivable curse. However, a small voice screamed at me that this wasn't logical at all, that Voldemort was dead and his followers were stuck in the very prison I was visiting. I squeezed my eyes shut and breathed deeply, counting to ten, and when I opened them the grumpy guard was standing before me.

He seemed to be in shock from my outburst for a moment, but he soon snapped out of it and had my wand in one hand and my wrists wrapped up in the other.

"Unfortunately for you now, I'm going to have to confiscate your wand. You, miss, are obviously extremely unstable. You're very lucky I'm kind enough to allow you to visit 'Lover Boy' after that stunt."

"Oh...Of course. M-My sincerest apologies, I d-don't know what came over me," I stammered out uneasily and forced myself to hand over my wand. I was almost happy to give it up for a while...maybe I was unstable couldn't trust myself with it.

It wasn't easy to completely relax anymore. Anytime I witnessed a child crying or the sound of a spell being shot from a wand, I tensed. It took all the strength I had sometimes to restrain myself from drawing my wand.

The rickety elevator was slowly coming back into view. A small sigh of relief escaped my lips when my sight was completely normal again. It seemed quite often that my mind slipped away from me for a moment and terror overcame me once more.

After settling back down, I noticed we had been descending for what seemed like 5 minutes. I wondered why they kept him so far underground.

"He must hate it down there," I murmured to myself.

The man I was visiting was in love with the stars and the trees and the air. He had to be miserable so far away from his element...where he felt most at home.

The elevator suddenly came to a sharp halt, and my knees buckled slightly, causing me to stumble forward a bit and into the guard. He steadied me, but quickly dropped his hands back down curtly.

"Alright you bumbling idiot, get outta' here. I thought you were 'posed to be a hero or something."

"Well if I'm such an idiot, do you mind listing to me the properties and ingredients of a sleeping draught combined with a pepper up potion?" I requested smartly, but his reply went unnoticed by me when I heard laughter. It was beautiful and familiar and almost caused me to break into a small smile. Almost.

I turned to look around for the source. It seemed that there was only one cell on this level, and lit torches covered the wall to brighten it up slightly. The sound of dripping water could be heard in the corner where a small puddle was gathering. After taking in my surroundings, I followed the line of brick to look inside the lone chamber.

Draco Malfoy was directly in front of me now, and he sat against the back wall in his hideous prison jumper. He was gazing at me with a look I had never seen him wear before.

The iron bars were just wide enough to fit an arm through it. A roof and four walls were all dark brick, and the floor was a black tile. An uncomfortable looking cot was positioned in the corner of the cubed room.

His laughter was completely faded when our eyes met. He stood properly and padded toward the bars to meet me. The guard forgotten, I followed his lead and met him halfway. Draco shifted a lone hand across the barrier and tucked a stray curl behind my ear.

"Hello beautiful," he whispered.

"Hi."

His index finger was now trailing down from my temple to my chin. I melted into his touch, just as I always did and just as I always would. His eyes had lost all evidence and light of laughter, and the silver was now clouded with new emotions that I recognized as longing and something else I wasn't quite sure of.

"How are you?" Draco inquired quietly.

"Surviving I suppose."

"I miss you."

"And I you."

He gently applied pressure to my shoulder and encouraged me to follow his lead as he took a seat on the cold, damp floor and continued stroking my hair while I closed my eyes for a moment and enjoyed the feeling of him.

"Tell me a story about us," I murmured. Draco nodded and gently moved down to caress the arm with the mudblood scar.

"Once there was a boy who was completely and utterly lost. He didn't know what to do about his family, his master, or his future. You see, he wasn't really cut out for the life of a murderer, but he didn't have a choice. He was a child...it seemed the most important thing was pleasing his father. He was prejudiced against others simply because of their blood which he later realized wasn't even made of mud. But, when he was at an all time low, beaten and broken, a beautiful and brilliant girl showed him what it felt like to be loved. The witch came into his life so suddenly, so full of life and laughter. She showed him how to love on the Astronomy Tower, she showed him under a willow tree by the lake, and she showed him in their final battle."

His story was short. So was ours.

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"I wish you could kiss me."

"I know, my love, I know."

Draco's eyes were glistening, and I knew mine were swimming with unshed tears. The battle of Hogwarts had occurred just weeks before, and Harry had won. He defeated Voldemort, the wizard who had plagued our lives for so long. The one we spent every year at Hogwarts overcoming in different ways. The wizard that killed Cedric Diggory and countless others. The wizard that murdered my parents in cold blood just to get to me. The wizard that my lover served dutifully, but not by choice.

"How are you really?"

My hands were trembling and he attempted to soothe them, but it was no use.

"How well could I be? How well is anyone? If I get any sleep at all, it's plagued with nightmares of you, Harry, Ron, my parents..."

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"I'm sick with worry about you."

"Don't worry about me. I'll be okay," he insisted, but I knew he wasn't really. Draco Malfoy was quite good at hiding his emotions, but the slightest hint of pain shining in his silver orbs could be detected by someone who knew him well. The tears I had been keeping at bay started to slide treacherously down my cheeks and I wiped at them hastily. I hated crying.

"Hey. don't. please," Draco pleaded. It was too late. I was crying silently, brokenly.

"I'm sorry," I choked out.

"No. Don't be sorry. Don't ever be sorry."

 **I hope that was ok! Thank you so much for reading :) if you'd like to review I'd really appreciate tips or feedback :))**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again! Thank you for reading my first chapter and I hope you enjoy this one :)**

I was walking to my transfiguration class when it happened. It was a beautiful day and the sun was shining brightly over Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Since it was only October, the still air only carried a slight chill with it. Many students were lounging about in the courtyard awaiting their next class—completely carefree.

If I hadn't been so full of worry about Harry and his stupid potions book, I would have taken the time to enjoy the scenery.

Professor McGonagall's class always provided a sort of escape for me. I loved the art of transfiguration, and concentrating on the work always helped clear my head immensely. Putting one foot in front of the other, padding my way to her classroom.

I was lost in thought about who the Half Blood Prince was and why he didn't appear in library books. He obviously had to be bad news...and Harry had experience with how evil unknown books could be! Yet he still remained stagnant in his idea that the Half-Blood Prince's book was harmless. The frustration over the topic was beginning to boil inside me when Draco Malfoy called out my name.

"Oi! Granger!"

He always pestered me. One day it would be my hair, the next my teeth, and almost always my blood. He made me feel hideous and foolish...like I didn't belong in hogwarts. Like the mudblood I was.

Most of the time I was able to keep calm and not jinx him into the next century like I wanted to do so badly, but I was already in a poor mood. He was standing with those stupid goons of his, Crabbe and Goyle. The expensive Slytherin robe he wore was wrapped tightly around him as he leaned lazily against the ancient walls of Hogwarts.

I turned to him sharply and balled up my fists. He took in my angered position and sneered viciously.

I could see there was something different about him. He still appeared obnoxious and extremely arrogant, but his face was strangely hollow. His eyes were shining slightly with feeling; something I had never witnessed.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" I inquired tiredly. I was sick of the horrible games he often played.

"I was just wondering...if I slit open your throat, would your blood actually be the color of mud?"

Even after so many years, the prejudice still cut into my heart like a knife and a certain sorrow filled my heart and spread until it reached my toes. How could someone treat another person like the scum under their boots just because of their heritage?

There were so many purebloods that I could triumph over in every class...transfiguration, defense against the dark arts, and even potions. Yet somehow they remained above me simply because my parents were muggles. How could someone be discriminated against because my mum and dad, so sweet and innocent, simply existed.

I attempted to hide the effect his words were having on me and schooled a look of indifference onto my face as if his statement didn't bother me.

"I don't know, Malfoy, but if I cut your brain open, would it actually be hollow?"

The hallway remained silent for a moment as Draco Malfoy took in my statement, and

his reaction was not what I expected. The blonde haired wizard's eyes turned from menacing to murderous and he practically jumped at me. He grabbed both of my arms and yanked them behind my back. A yelp escaped me.

"DONT YOU EVER INSULT MY INTELLIGENCE, MUDBLOOD. DO YOU HEAR ME?"

I was amazed. Of course nobody wanted to be called unintelligent, but the amount of defense pouring off of him in that moment showed how much it infuriated him.

Tears were pooling in my eyes, but I wasn't sure if it was from the pain in my arms or the awful term he used. We had fought verbally on many occasions, but Malfoy had never touched me. Never caused physical pain.

I tried forcing myself to talk in an ordinary and relaxed voice to convince him he wasn't effecting me.

"Tell me Malfoy, if you're so intelligent, do you really believe my blood is made of mud?"

Malfoy's grip on me loosened as my statement hung in the air, so I took the chance to escape from his clutches. For a reason unknown he didn't grab at me again.

Draco Malfoy understood that I didn't mean mud and filth physically. He knew very well that the blood in my veins was just as red as his. In reality, he actually was quite intelligent, only flawed due to the way he was raised. He knew what I meant.

I was asking him if he really thought he was better than me because I had muggle blood; if my parents really changed how talented of a witch I was.

Draco Malfoy had to know deep inside that we were equals. That I was given the same marks as him. That my spells were just as powerful. That my future was just as rich and bright. I could see it in his eyes as soon as I asked my final question.

The atmosphere around us was full of tension as I walked away. I didn't turn back.

 **I'm apologizing that this chapter was quite short, but I felt it was necessary for this particular scene.**

 **With love, eloquence7**


	3. Chapter 3

I was running through the Forbidden Forest. Bellatrix Lestrange's maniacal laugh was following me, mingling with the sound of the rustling leaves in the trees above me. It was dark and freezing. The wind pushing against my face was beginning to burn with intensity of Fynde Fire.

I was dodging trees and jumping low bushes, but it was no use.

She was catching up, I knew. Trying to push myself harder was impossible—I was so tired. Part of me wanted to sink down into the mud from which my blood was made of and let her torture me. But fear drove me on.

The sharp incantation of the Cruciatus Curse broke through the sound of cracking twigs and moving leaves. A shriek of pain escaped me and I was forced to collapse and curl into a fetal position. I couldn't move. Couldn't resist the pain coursing through my body. I new I would die then, and the feeling of acceptence was laid on me like a ton of bricks, mingling with the indescribable pain. I desperately awaited the killing curse, hoping she would finish me quickly like she did Sirius Black and all the others she had murdered in cold, red blood.

Bellatrix let out a horrendous laugh and pulled out a dagger. It glittered in the moonlight and a quick thought struck me. How could the most evil things be so beautiful. Like the dagger. Like Draco Malfoy. It seemed right, I supposed to myself through the pain, for her to end me the muggle way. She wanted my death to be caused by the civilization I had struggled to not be defined by for so long. To kill me with the stereotype I belonged to. I was still spasming from the cruciatus curse as as she swung the knife.

It was closing in on my heart when I shot awake. Harry was sitting at the foot of the bed with his head in his hands.

"You have them too then?" He whispered. His hands were trembling and his bright green eyes were glistening. He looked down right horrible, but I'm sure I did as well.

"Every night," my reply was brief and quick-breathed. I noticed he had turned on my bedside lamp, which was highlighting the shed tears that rested on his face

We sat in silence for a while before I spoke again. "What are yours like?"

Harry hesitated for a moment and mumbled to himself before answering. "It's always the same. One of the dead appear and yell at me. 'How could I do this?' 'How could I let them die?' Tonight it was Fred."

I didn't respond. I didn't know how to. What was the best way to comfort a young boy of 17 who felt as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders?

Harry spoke again. "Do you think they will ever go away?"

"I don't think so. Maybe overtime they will be less frequent and we will be able to truly live...but I think you will always blame yourself. Ron will always need time to be alone. Ginny will never sleep through the night. I just hope that we will learn to live with it."

Moonlight was flooding through my sheer curtains and providing a mix with the yellow glow of my lamp. Harry James Potter sat upon my bed with his heart in his hands and I couldn't comfort him. I was just as broken as he was.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?" I looked away from him almost at once, not being able to bear the look he was giving me. As a new thought struck my quickly zoned out from whatever Harry was trying to say.

I was gazing out my window, wondering how nature could be so unaffected by the war. It seemed to be around midnight, and the stars were shining brightly. A wolf was howling in the far distance. It seemed unreal that the natural world could continue living in happiness and peace when so much was lost. Birds were tweeting, but people were dead. Trees were growing, but Hogwarts was in rubble.

The flowers that were blooming in the field outside the burrow. They resurfaced a memory of a girl and a boy laying beneath a willow tree by a vast lake.

Harry speaking again interrupted my thoughts. "Mione, do you mind if I stay here for a while? I doubt either of us are going back to sleep."

"Of course I don't mind, Harry."

He moved to sit next to me by my pillow and slipped under the covers. Harry then rested his head on my shoulder while I voiced my thoughts about nature and its ignorance of the war.

"I'm glad it's that way. If the world wasn't the way it is I don't believe I could get through it," Harry commented.

"It does help, doesn't it? Often after a nightmare I sit on my windowsill and watch the stars. It allows me to sort through my thoughts more clearly."

We remained quiet after that—simply enjoying each other's comforting presence in a time of absolute need.

Hours later sunlight peaked through the curtains of my room. The colors of the sky reminded me of life beyond the war. Beyond us. It made it seem so small, as if the second wizarding war was simply a shade of orange in a sky with millions of colors. It occurred to me that one day this war would be small. Insignificant. It would be a page in a History of Magic textbook when it deserved a book of its own.

Time ticked by slowly, almost unmoving, until Mrs. Weasley peaked in to let us know breakfast was ready.

She had been so kind to Harry and I...taking us in when we had nowhere to go. My parents were dead and I couldn't bear the thought of living in my childhood home alone. Voldemort's Death Eaters had killed them near the end of my sixth year.

Just as Harry couldn't bring himself to stay at Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

For a few days I stayed in a room with Ginny, but her pacing and my nightmares made it too difficult to share a living space. So, instead Mrs. Weasley had slightly enlarged an unused broom closet, which allowed me my own space. It was quite small...barely enough room to fit a small bed and a trunk, but I liked it well enough.

My sheets were a soft purple, and the lone window had matching sheer curtains that allowed sunlight to flood into the room. It was often quite beautiful.

Harry turned to face me with a look of emotion I hadn't seen on him in quite a while—hope. "Thank you, Hermione. I needed that."

"No, I thank you. I needed that as well," I whispered, sending him a weak smile.

He stood quietly and left the room to freshen up while I padded across the hall and into Ginny's bathroom.

After brushing my teeth and attempting to comb my unruly hair, I pulled on an old gray robe and combat boots, only glancing in the mirror on the way out.

I padded softly down the stairs to the kitchen were the rest of the family was gathered. There were no heated debates, no laughter, no speaking—only the sound of clinking spoons and the birds outside.

"morning," I spoke softly to the group before taking my place near the end of the table in between Ron and Harry. My two best friends acknowledged my presence with swift pats on the arm—no words.

Of course, no one at the table responded to my greeting, but I didn't mind. It was quite normal that way. Very routine.

The majority of breakfast was quiet, save a few sentences exchanged between Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. We simply ate in silence. There wasn't really anything to say.

I took a few small bites of my waffle while thinking back to my visit with Draco. It had been three days before. The repairs at Hogwarts had been too consuming to allow me to visit once more. I missed him terribly but figured I would have to get used to it.

After what seemed like hours Ron interrupted the tranquility and my thoughts. "Mum, I need to go outside for a while." It was then that I noticed he hadn't touched his food, and his hands were shaking.

He didn't wait for a response and had apparated away before Mrs. Weasley even looked up from her plate.

I stared at the empty spot where he should have been. He of course would apparate back to the burrow a few hours later, but possibly splinched and most definitely drunk. Ronald Weasley had taken a liking to drown his depression in firewhiskey.

I could feel Harry's gaze on me. I knew he was thinking back to what I had told him—that the nightmares would never truly leave, but we would learn to live with them. I returned his stare steadily and he sent me a weak smile.

I looked away from The Boy Who Lived and my vision landed on Mrs. Weasley's clock.

"Well, I suppose I should head over to hogwarts now—Professor McGonagall will be needing my assistance," i announced to the table. "Thank you for breakfast Mrs. Weasley. It was wonderful."

She glanced up at me and nodded with a slight smile. "You go on, dear. Arther and I will arrive there shortly. We are trying to convince George to come with us."

I nodded to her while securing my robe against me. George Weasley hadn't left his room since his brothers funeral weeks ago. His Mum and Dad had been trying to convince him to leave his isolation and join in the repairs of school, but he refused. I couldn't blame him for not helping— he was living without his other half.

I trudged across the kitchen and to the front door. The apparation wards had been placed back onto the school, but regular "rebuilders", as we were called, were given reusable portkeys to arrive to and from Hogwarts everyday. Ours was a small shiny sickle, placed next to a vase by the door.

I let my fingers graze against it, and suddenly I was swept away in what could only be described as a whirlwind of movement. When my feet hit the ground outside the entrance to the great hall, I sighed deeply before opening my eyes.

Wizards and witches were bustling around the area, receiving directions from the professors and having quick conversations with each other before beginning their work day.

I jogged toward the center of the room where Professor McGonagall was handing out directions.

"Ah, Ms. Granger. Just the girl I wanted to see. Um..." she glanced at her clipboard, "Will you take a few of the helpers to the transfiguration courtyard to begin repairs there? We haven't even started that wing of the castle."

"Of course, Professor," I responded briefly. She smiled greatfully at me.

Looking around for help, I spotted Luna Lovegood with Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott and waved them over. "Will the three of you help me with the transfiguration courtyard? McGonagall wants quite a bit done today."

"Sure Hermione," Luna answered me quietly. I listened for a moment longer for an odd exclamation about nargles or some other strange creature, but there wasn't one.

The rest of my companions nodded and waited for me to lead the way, so I took off out of the Great Hall. Walking the hallways of Hogwarts brought back so many memories and filled me with strong emotions. There was no conversation. It wasn't needed. My fellow students simply took in the view of their crumbled school, just as I did.

A nostalgic feeling overcame over me when we travelled passed the girls bathroom where we brewed the Polyjuice Potion...Harry, Ron, and I had been so young then. We felt so rebellious and free.

I was suddenly dragged back to the times when our biggest worries were who would win the upcoming quidditch game or what grade Professor Snape would give us on our essays.

My thoughts were interrupted when we reached the courtyard. I halted and gazed at a spot in the hallway that had remained untouched. The others only glanced at me before slipping wands out of their robes to start repairing.

A reminiscence from a cool October day surfaced in my heart. I padded forward slowly until I reached the wall and brushed my fingers lightly against the spot he had leaned against that afternoon. The day I had asked him that damned question that made him think.

And suddenly I didn't feel like working anymore.

"H-hey guys...Er...I'm not feeling too well. Do you all mind if I leave?" I hated lying to them, but I needed to get out of there.

Neville turned to me in concern but nodded anyway. In relief I wheeled around and took off back toward the great hall.

I was in a full on sprint when my thoughts caught up to me. The memories of the school. Of him—were just too much to bear.

I continued on at a fast jog, trying to ignore the feeling of longing that was spreading through me.

The rubble scattered across the floor was an obstacle, but I was doing fine getting around it. That was until I tripped and slid across the floor.

I later there for a moment, my breath ragged. When I finally did sit up, I glanced at my hands. The skin was scraped off of them and they burned like hell.

"Fuck," I whispered when I felt the long cut across my cheek.

I suppose I had forgotten that a was a witch and could heal the cut, so I continued on to the great hall. The reusable portkey stationed there would transport me to hogsmeade where I could then apparate to azkaban.

I picked my pace back up to a run. I needed to see him. As the hall and the port key came into sight, relief washed through me. I could get out of there.

Without a second glance at my surroundings, I thrust my hand upon the object, which happened to be an ordinary goblet used at the feasts we used to have.

As I was pulled and tugged, I thought back to all the feasts with my Gryffindor housemates. The memories of meals my sixth year when I could feel eyes piercing into me from across the room. His eyes.

When I was slammed into the quiet village of Hogsmeade, my thoughts quickly left me. I slipped my wand out of my robes and quickly scanned the area, just to be cautious.

The town was completely empty. It was so cold, so lonely and desolate and for a moment reminded me of myself. I took a few steps down the street. They echoed between the small humble buildings that used to bustle with life.

I supposed the village would never be the same. It was touched by the chilling, frightening finger of war and suffering. There had been no fighting here, but the war had affected it just the same.

With a last glance around the village, I imagined the apparation point outside Azkaban. The familiar tug pulled me away from what was once Hogsmeade.

And he was there. Waiting for me.

 **Thanks so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it. If you'd like to review, I would love to get some tips to help me improve. :)**

 **Sincerely, eloquence7**


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